


A Beginner’s Slam

by kj_is_a_girls_name



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bad Poetry, Fluff, M/M, Poetry, really bad poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-01-21 05:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12451026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kj_is_a_girls_name/pseuds/kj_is_a_girls_name
Summary: Of poetry, that is.Please enjoy this inarticulate rambling, as I have no clue what poetry is or how it’s supposed to work. It’s actually rather cute, if you can get past the non-existent technique.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My second work! This is in a totally different format than the first, so let me know if you like it more/less/about the same. Criticism and compliments always welcome. Hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> _Sometimes, criminals of London_  
>  _(The notorious underbelly_  
>  _Of the wondrous city_  
>  _Who cut, killed, destroyed_  
>  _Lives,_  
>  _Because_  
>  _Why not?)_  
>  _Were too quiet_  
>  _(Or too stupid_  
>  _Or too dull_  
>  _Or too weak_  
>  _And called themselves in.)_  
>  _These times could_  
>  _Be categorized into three_  
>  _Types of days._

Sometimes, criminals of London  
(The notorious underbelly  
Of the wondrous city  
Who cut, killed, destroyed  
Lives,  
Because  
Why not?)  
Were too quiet  
(Or too stupid  
Or too dull  
Or too weak  
And called themselves in.)  
These times could  
Be categorized into three  
Types of days. 

Some days would be humorous.  
Sherlock  
Would do something rather  
Amusing  
That  
John  
Would pretend to be  
Upset about  
But both knew that  
John secretly  
Adored. So  
Sherlock  
Would shoot the wall  
And  
Rot some fingers in the fridge  
And  
Tell John he was an idiot  
And  
Change all the laptop passwords  
And  
Crash John’s dates  
And  
Complain about Mycroft.  
And  
John  
Of course, because he was just being  
John  
Would simply simile, because  
Sherlock  
Was just being  
Sherlock

Some days would be hell.  
Sherlock  
Would scream And  
Rave  
And  
Shout  
And  
Pull his hair out  
And set things on fire And  
Shoot that goddamn gun he found  
From somewhere  
And  
Spend hours curled up on the couch  
Soft tears padding down his face  
Like the kittens Harry  
Owned  
Back when they were small.  
John  
Knew not  
What plagued him then  
When feline paws dripped on to  
Cheap, worn furniture.  
John  
Guessed it was the  
Emptiness of  
His own mind  
Like a black hole  
Infinitely massive  
And yet infinitely lacking mass  
Pulling everything around it  
Into its abyss  
Before disappearing it forever.

John  
Supposed that he understood.  
(Maybe his mind  
Felt a little bit like that too, sometimes.  
Maybe his mind  
Was not so different from  
Sherlock's,  
At least in that respect.)

Some days would be  
Interesting.  
Fascinating.  
John  
Wasn’t quite sure how he  
Felt  
About the third type of day.

The first, he knew he enjoyed, because  
Sherlock  
Was so blatantly trying to get  
John’s  
Attention, and  
John  
Was more than willing to give it to him.

The second, he knew he dreaded, because  
Sherlock  
Was so blatantly in pain  
And really, what good was being a  
Doctor  
If he couldn’t help the  
One he loved?

The third  
John  
Adored?hated?misinterpreted?  
These were the  
Days  
That happened right after a  
Case  
A decent Case  
A six or higher, usually  
It was less of a  
Day, and more of a  
Time period.  
Maybe an hour, maybe two  
Maybe a week  
John  
Never dared count  
Lest they end more quickly that way.

The third  
John  
Never quite knew what to do about  
Because  
Sherlock  
Was so many things.  
Brilliant  
And  
Beautiful  
And  
Breathtaking  
And (of course)  
Barmy.  
And  
John  
Too  
Was many things  
Brave  
And  
Bold  
And  
Broad-shouldered  
And (of course)  
Barmy.  
(Or so  
Sherlock  
Told him.) 

During the third,  
Sherlock  
Forgot that he was a  
High-functioning sociopath  
One that had no friends  
And an infinite number of personal boundaries.  
Sherlock would sprawl across  
John’s  
Lap  
And purr like those kittens did  
Reading a book  
On Toxicology  
While  
John  
Wrote up the case on his blog.  
_The Melted Laptop _, and__  
Sherlock  
Would put his head on  
John’s  
Shoulder.  
_The Geek Interpreter _, and__  
Sherlock  
Would nibble distractedly  
On John’s ear.  
(John was never sure if  
Sherlock  
Was cataloguing the taste of  
Human ears in general  
Or something else more…well.)  
_Hat-Man and Robin _, and__  
Sherlock  
Would kiss the corner of  
John’s  
Mouth  
Then look at him, nervously  
As if anything Sherlock ever did  
Couldn’t be brilliant  
(In one form or another.)

_____ _

The third day  
Became a lot less confusing  
And a lot more exciting  
After  
Sherlock  
Admitted he made a mistake  
Telling  
John  
What he told him  
That first night in Angelo’s.

When that happened  
John  
Thought that this third type was his favorite  
Because, certainly  
It was the most fun  
Despite being far  
And few  
Between.

But then  
John  
Realized that he could not  
Have a favorite day.  
The three days  
(The three sides of  
Sherlock)  
Created his  
Brilliant  
And  
Beautiful  
And  
Breathtaking  
And (of course)  
Barmy  
Man.  
So  
John  
Resolved himself to  
Love  
All three days  
Equally  
And love the rush of the Case  
Equally  
As well.

But only because it was  
Sherlock.


	2. In (this) world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ocean and the Sky fall in Love. Really, should we have expected anything else?

In a world where life abound  
Where the grasslands breathes  
And the songbird sings  
And flowers thrive in this natural sound;  
All are alive  
In this world where life abound

In a world where life abound  
Where Man never came to be  
And the beaches shyly court the sea  
And green-grey vines hug the world ‘round;  
All are one  
In this world where life abound

In a world where one abound  
Where a Sky gazes at an deep blue Ocean  
And feels forever deep blue emotion  
And feels (quite appropriately) drowned;  
All are yearning  
In this world where one abound

In a world where yearning abound  
Where an Ocean gazes at an ever-changing Sky  
And to Himself His Love He does deny  
And yet still knows His Love to be profound;  
All are ignorant  
In this world where yearning abound

In a world where ignorance abound  
Where an Ocean and a Sky can Love  
And all it takes is a little shove  
And then the Sky will fall on down;  
All are changed  
In this world where ignorance abound

In a world where change abound  
Where Ocean and Sky are together at last  
And, intertwined, forget the past  
And life is quickly draining out;  
All are dying  
In this world where change abound

In a world where dying abound  
Where two lovers destroyed the rest  
Sky was overjoyed, Ocean was unblessed  
And nothing breathes on the ground;  
All are none  
In this world where dying abound

In a world where none abound  
Where dark and light forever dance  
And Ocean mournfully kills His chance  
And kills Their Love to bring Else back around;  
All are hopeful  
In this world where none abound

In a world where hope abound  
Where Man finally step from ash  
And the ruined Sky and Ocean crash  
And splinter into Man and pound;  
All are wondrous  
In this world where hope abound

In a world where wonder abound  
Where Man has a partner in his birth  
And another Man rises from dirt  
And one has Sky-eyes; one is Ocean-round;  
All are alive again  
In this world where wonder abound


End file.
